


When I get home, I shall write a book about this place.

by CorpselovingCorpse



Category: Interview With the Vampire (1994), Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: 70's Music, Agnostic Character, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Catholic Character, Gen, Jewish Character, Lestat is a thot, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Vampires, a lot of disco, alternative universe, because it's about vampires, daniel is jewish/catholic, daniel is less of a thot, i'm a serious person, it's the 70's baby, lestat doesn't ruins everything for once, pepsi bashing, questionable clothing choices, we get some necrophilia jokes, we will ignore everything we don't like about canon because fuck the author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorpselovingCorpse/pseuds/CorpselovingCorpse
Summary: “I’m going to give you the chance that I never had.”‘The Boy’ laughed hysterically; like a death rattle. His cheek squished against the leather headrest of a flashy, red mustang. G-d was with that boy and he had a really fucked up sense of humor.





	1. Choice

**Author's Note:**

> This all started after a talk with my Girlfriend about Vampire Chronicle AUs and What if-  
> Then we planed a whole ass series following the books but never went to nothing because we are like that.  
> Until this idea came back to me a month ago and I had to write it.  
> This is completely self-indulgent and follows both book and movie characterization (Honestly I love Louis' Characterization in the movie, he was, likable and charming, also the movie got rid of the weird pedophilic and incestuous vibes of Claudia and Louis and I have the intention of following that path.)  
> This happens immediately after the movie ends, except that Louis fed from Daniel just like in the book.
> 
> -  
> This would be nothing without my wonderful Girlfriend, Miss Sunfleur who edited this and acts as my beta (I would say omega but she hates a/b/o jokes.)  
> Any mistake is my fault tho. She did her best with what I gave her.  
> -  
> The Vampire Chronicles Belongs to Anne Rice, so please, don't sue me or send your fans after me!  
> -  
> Daniel's Pov will be in third Person, while Lestat's will be first because i will follow book formatting. I hope it's not confusing.

 

 

“I’m going to give you the chance that I never had.”

 

‘The Boy’ laughed hysterically; like a death rattle. His cheek squished against the leather headrest of a flashy, red mustang. G-d was with that boy and he had a really fucked up sense of humor.

 

The first bite didn’t kill him – sharp fangs, fat lips, heaviness low in his belly that had nothing to do with fear – this one might.

 

Had that boy been stupid? Had he been delirious? His blood loss, his arousal, his insatiable curiosity, so much like lust…he’d made a meal of himself. Malleable, supple.

 

He had left the room in a hurry, trembling and weak. His hair in total disarray, pale as death. Ignoring the night clerk, who in turn, ignored him. Having long been accustomed to men leaving the grounds in a state. A San Franciscan, born and bred, almost nothing could faze him.

 

Careless, afraid, he ran to his car without looking at the backseat. Adrenaline numbed his characteristic paranoia. Fucking daft madman, more than obsessed. Taken in by his interview, listening with a keen ear. Another source, another perspective. A hook; another vampire. ‘Armand’, the almost-master-not-quite. What part could that boy play in Armand’s theatre of vampires? Dead and avant-garde, like the woman on stage? Would Armand want a dead boy? Would he want an interview: a book, a teacher, a friend, a pet? Were they all like Louis de Pointe du Lac had described? What’s the point in questions without any answers? 

 

The boy thought, “No.” He had to find Lestat, he needed to find Lestat. He spoke, sotto voce, “Oh G-d. Let me find Lestat first.”

 

G-d had listened, with his real fucked up sense of humor. _When G-d closes a window, you bleed. When He opens a door, you die._ “That’s the saying, right?”

 

You bleed all over your own car. “Which I won fair and square, technically.” I could see it clearly, like a film, on the screen of my own mind. He’d won it ‘playing pool’ two months ago. He’d won a beating to, that same night. I felt his bruised ribs, my own knuckles were stained with someone else’s blood. I’d gambled the wrong man, he’d gambled the wrong man. The boy – that boy, I was Lestat and this was now. Rather, this was then – was at a disadvantage. 

 

Even in San Francisco, most men didn’t like to lose. “Smart-mouthed cock sucker!” I could hear it in my own head. A stranger to me, a complete stranger but I could feel my ears ringing. He was right, I was a smart-mouthed cock sucker. 

 

No. I am me, this was then, I am The Vampire Lestat.

 

Not my smart, cock sucking mouth. His, Daniel’s. I’d found the name, all it takes is a memory. Sometimes less.

 

Most men didn’t expect to lose a fight (and their car) to such a young, pretty man. To someone like Daniel, who had won ‘fair and square’. Daniel’s voice became mine. “I’d like to see Mr. Macho Fuck explain that busted-ass face come Monday morning!”

 

**_“I’d like to see Monday morning.”_ **

 

He couldn't fight me, he didn’t have a chance, even with Louis. Louis who had lied to him by saying that he wouldn’t be hurt, only to drain him nearly dry. Now, in such a pathetic state, trying to fight his way out of this would be ridiculous. If he could – even if he could – why would he? He had what he wanted, he had found me. Lestat, the villain of Louis’ tale. The vampire who could give him immortality, freedom from the decay of age, the promise of an eternal presence, th —

 

Here I paused, as a reader, to snatch a word from Daniel’s mind. From the very ink of his pen, from his own writer’s hands: _‘Antagonist’._

 

Well, he might die, after all, G-d had listened. He was closing divine windows and opening Holy doors. Daniel echoed inside the emptiness of me, somewhere: “That’s the saying, right?” He might die in this flashy red Mustang, driven off the road by a speeding corpse. “As long as _I'm_ the dead body in the backseat, no one'll pull this car over.” It was a funny thought. It was hysterical thought; like the sound of a death rattle.

 

* * *

 

Moments ago, Daniel had fainted. The glowing orange street lights made him look vulnerable, in a beautiful way. His deathly pale skin covered in sun-splattered freckles. His crooked nose gave him a contrastingly delicate masculinity. His lips had a desirable look, they were lax with sleep; in that, he had become all the more enticing.

 

I moved my hand until it pressed into the crook of Daniel's neck, so as to better caress the soft skin. I pressed two fingers against his right carotid artery, I could feel his heart palpitating. The heartbeat still, after not one, but two vampires had fed from him. I remember thinking, "The spirit is weak but _the body_ is willing." Is that what's said?

 

Louis never mastered 'the little drink', but he fed artfully from Daniel, who's puncture wounds had started bruising. Louis had taken enough blood to leave him disoriented, weak, but living. He wore a gentleman's mask but still, his evil was a selfish one.

 

Louis ran from my drained body with the same single-mindedness and even Claudia's ashes – Madaline's too – were abandoned. Her fine clothes, her jewelry, forgotten with the power of Louis' suffering. In life, she had been Louis' daughter and sister. In death, she'd become another all-encompassing pain. Like a limb, only Louis was missing. Claudia was mine as much as she was his and yet, I had nothing of her's. I had no child's coffin to bury, no urn, no last words.

 

Sometimes, my mind wanders and I imagine her finding me. knocking on whichever door is mine at the moment, she'd see me and say, "I've come home." as if she were young again and had only gotten lost, all this time. What if I had been with her, when she died...? Claudia and Louis' Madaline. Would I have something of her with me now?

 

But Claudia was dead, even if I had not been with her, she was dead and I would never share anyone with Louis again.

 

I jerked Daniel's body toward my shoulder, carelessly running my nails under his shirt. Such a pretty thing. I missed the striking beauty of new love, the possibility of companionship, all over again. Would Daniel share my hunger for all the world, every person – everything – dead or alive? Would he walk with me, as Marius says, through the 'Savage Garden'?

 

Oh, what a picture we must have made to the people passing us by! Gorgeous, blonde men, both and young looking. Driving with a savage detachment made all the more attractive. One against the other, drunk and presumably in love. Full of liquor, passion, smeared with kisses. I caught the thread of a thought from a passing motorcyclist: "I wish that were me."

 

I imagined what the others would say. Louis would rant from his unearned pulpit, no doubt. "You've become a monster, you've become the pit to Hell! All you want is more dead bodies to pile in!" I could just see his face purpling with anger, so human. The thought made me laugh! Daniel had nothing to do with Louis, **_nothing_**. But of course, he would take every entitlement to other’s pain. All the little humans were chickens and all the little chickens became poodles and they all blurred into sewer rats that blurred into orphan girls. Louis cried over them not because they died but because their scurrying and squeaking made them pitiable.

 

Marius would disapprove of this, to him it would be a risk. He was the finger-wagging patriarch in perpetual disappointment. He was one long, suffering sigh. To my mind, that was protection. "My boy," he would call me and so I was. "Lestat, my friend, a member of the press? Have you forgotten the secrets you promised to keep?" I love Marius but I hate nothing more than the good advice of men whose opinions waggle with their tongues.

 

"You're insatiable!" my mother and my child, Gabrielle, would laugh. Pausing to wipe bloody sweat from her brow. "Still acting, after all this time, you old starlet?" There will always be a coldness from Gabrielle but in my own mind, she won’t be indifferent, to my endearment. 

 

Armand…I didn't think of him. He had no lines in this play.

 

By my side, Daniel stirred from feverish sleep to moan in pain. I had one eye on him and the other on the road. One hand gripping the stirring wheel, the other slung over his bloody neck. He was warm, soft, leaning against me. An utter temptation, would I resist?

 

I kissed his jaw, smiling when he sighed. It would be so easy to have him. I could stop the car here and now, wake him with a thrill. All the world is my stage and all its people are my adoring audience! I could dig my fangs, all my teeth, into his neck and feel the blood spray over us. 

 

I am eternally at the edge of a precipice but never falling. Vampires are not alive, but we are not dead. I still had hips to grind with, arms to hold his shuddering back, hands to bruise with. Who could be more charitable than me? I could make Daniel moan and sweat as I ate. He would swell one last time—that was the pleasure of death, which both the hangman and the hanged know. I would swallow with gusto and take his last breath into my mouth, rubbing behind him. Who would stop me, who would want to?

 

I had not fed from someone properly grateful in such a long time. Someone with questions for me, about me. He made me feel illuminated by the stage lights of 'old Hollywood.' All in black and white, with a delicate cigarette dangling from my lips. Daniel would sit across from me, but I would be able to see him strain closer with every word. He would ask his questions, pencil poised above a legal pad, to transcribe every word. I would laugh my Mother's cold laugh and blow smoke in his face, he'd inhale. So fascinated. 

 

Why not give Daniel that to savor, instead? Who could be more charitable than me?

 

The night sky was lightening hues of blue. I would not beat the sunrise if I were to kill Daniel, I wanted no interruption. I wanted to savor his fine taste. I wanted to hear the music of his painting, rising louder and sharper, like the strings of a violin waiting to be tuned.

 

"I'm going to give you the choice I never got." 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is been 3 months and one day but... the chapter is done.  
> I do apologize but... writing is hard and like... part of the chapter simply disappeared and, neither I or my beloved editor could find it.
> 
> This is here thanks to my amazing editor Miss Sunflower who made this hot pile on trash something readable.
> 
> Also thank you to the vampire chronicles discord for bearing with me.
> 
>  
> 
> At Last... pwease Anne... Do Not sue me if you see this uwu.

Daniel woke up heavy-limbed, with cottonmouth and a throat swollen tight. Gritty, like the sand in an oyster. Daniel told himself groggily, “I’ll make my own pearl.” He couldn’t open his eyes yet, but he didn’t have to. The bed was too soft, and the sheets smelt powdery sweet. He buried his face in a cream-colored pillowcase. “This room smells like money spent. My nose burns.”

This wasn’t the first money-bed Daniel had woken up in. He’d fooled around, it was a game he’d never outgrown. When he played it right, he’d wake up and they’d whisper, “Stay, I’ll make us a pot.” In dorm rooms, snuggled with blanket hog students and their freezing cold toes, or on a friend’s loved-up couch. Once, in the back of a chilly car, rain pit-pattering on the roof. They’d fogged up the windows with sighs…

Daniel didn’t know where he was or how he’d got there.

He took a raspy breath, squinting at the moonlight through dusky-rose velvet drapes. It made his head throb and spin. He felt nauseous, “Maybe I’m on something, maybe I’m sick, maybe it’s terminal. Maybe I should get gone.” He tensed to move — 

“No, no, mon chéri.” Daniel winced, who was this loudmouth? “You are too tired, go back to sleep now.”

Daniel lifted his face just enough to say, clearly, “Don’t you ever tell me what to do.”

He saw someone moving from the corner of his eye, it made him flinch back. That got a loud laugh, Daniel’s head pulsed angrily, and cold sweat beaded down his face. He felt – something – frozen stiff holding his neck up, whipping hair from his forehead. “Like squeezing ice till it burns.” Daniel’s eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, but he could see the outline of a glass bottle. He could feel it over his lips.

The taste made him dry-heave, “Who takes drinks from strangers?” Daniel thought by now, he’d know better. Thought by now he’d be dead. Thought, “Pepsi, just my fucking luck.”  
“…”  
Daniel’s eyes were drooping, “You want me dead?” who was he talking to? From somewhere in the room he heard it, “I said the choice was yours, Daniel.” Another laugh, softer this time and cold fingers squeezed his cheeks. He was being kissed, sporadically and with leisure, across his forehead, his mouth, his aching eyelids. “Feels cool, man.” Daniel felt detached, he could see himself on the money-bed. He could see himself on the high ceiling, stuck up there like glow in the dark stars. He was so out of it.  
“You are far too tired, I told you so.”

 

 

Daniel woke with the rising moon in nothing but his glasses. Everything was clear now, even with a white-hot migraine. He was in a swank hotel, the kind with a bed bigger than his apartment. He stretched, trying to untangle out of sweaty, cream-colored sheets. He stumbled out of the money-bed and groaned, padding over a lush Persian carpet. "This is just excessive." 

He found the door before he found his clothes. If it hadn't been locked, he would've run out naked. He'd been locked up before for the 'public indecency' of smooching a friend. They spent the night in a jail cell being propositioned by some crackhead who thought they were hookers. In the morning, they were bailed. The friend had gone, just sort of...petered out. The way they all did, back then, but the memory had stayed.

Daniel fumbled with the door's crystal handle. "I need a drag." He could see red mahogany cabinetry from across the suite. Probably the minibar, a 'hidden fixture', tasteful-like. Not to distract from the camelback pink sofa, probably. "Chintzy." He'd raid the place and leave Lestat to foot the bill,  
but—Lestat had his tapes.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Maybe Lestat got rid of them, "Like he's gonna do with me." Louis had lied, was it such a stretch to think that Lestat would too? Daniel couldn't stop a few frustrated tears from bubbling over at the thought. He let go of the doorknob to rub at his cheeks and paced around the room. Passing a long open window with the drapes drawn so San Francisco could get an eyeful, stopping to glare at the minibar. Full up with sodas, juices, sparkling water, liquors, wines, and candies. He knocked back an 'amenity' bottle of brandy. Daniel blinked back more tears.

If Lestat was going to kill him, it wouldn't be here.

There was a phone on the left nightstand, next to the money bed. He'd just call room service. Using his best radio-ready voice, reserved specifically for pointing out how calm and collected he was. Daniel told the front desk, "I'm locked in and my friend – I came here with a buddy – has the key. Could you send somebody up, to let me out?"

“Of course, sir, is that all?” The customer service voice made the circumstance even worse. 

"Is my car in your garage?" How did Lestat reserve this room? "She's a red pony car."

There was a pause, Daniel could hear shuffling. "May I have the make and model, sir?"

"Mustang, uh...1965."

"The valet brought your keys to the front desk, would you like them sent up as well, sir?"

"Yeah, yes, please. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Will that be all sir?" 

"Y–no! Please, send up a clean bathrobe."

"Yes, sir is there anything else I can help you with tonight?"

"No, thank you."

Daniel hung up, hoping to G-d that the maid would show up before Lestat.

He found his pants -But not his underwear. Had Lestat stolen it like some kind of creep? Would he use it to track him down like a bloodhound?- and was putting them on when the maid knocked at the door.  
Robe. Room Key. Car Keys.

In exchange, Daniel gave her one of his best smiles and a crumpled twenty as a tip.  
He liked how she didn't stare at him, very professional, like she was used to half-naked boys in disheveled states. Maybe she was, G-d Knows that rich folks are freaks.

He found his shirt, sweaty and covered in blood carefully draped over a chair - still no sign of his underwear- and put it with a wince, leaving the room with the robe over his shoulders, walking with the dignity of a prince.

Waiting for the elevator was torture, even though he was full of brandy. He would've taken the stairs, but he really didn't want to trip and call attention to himself. "Well, more attention." With his white shirt spattered in blood and his bedhead, Daniel was sure he looked like a cheap thrill. 

 

He smiled at the woman inside the elevator, all teeth, daring her to make some kind of comment and dashed like the devil was chasing him when the elevator doors opened to the garage.

The flashing red of the car wasn’t difficult to see and when he got inside he laughed like a madman, head against the steering wheel. His tapes were still in the cassette!

His hands shook with the adrenaline rush of the ride home, "Why I didn't get ticketed I'll never understand." He had driven like he didn’t fear death, cutting other drivers and parking haphazardly in front of his run-down apartment.

Unlocking his door had never been so hard. Still, "This door won't be enough to stop Lestat." he said, taking his busted high tops off and walking barefoot into his little apartment. Just like he'd left it, a controlled chaos with books and magazines on every free space and under his living room window there was an ironing board with a swivel chair to match.

The right corner was covered with fanzines and comic books, his wrist brace haphazardly under it all. The left corner, with notebooks and a dying cactus. Laid out in the middle of the makeshift 'desk', was his Grandpa's 1960 Olivetti Lettera. Getting the most sunlight, of course.

Daniel left his bag on top of the swivel chair. It took all his restraint to stop himself from transcribing the tapes then and there. He knew without a doubt that once he started he wouldn't be able to stop. "I need to shower first, or at least eat." If you talk to yourself in an empty apartment and no one's around to hear it, have you made a sound?

He reluctantly started the shower, "I have five minutes till this water heats up, at least." He told himself, wincing at the soreness of his body. He stripped and stopped in front of the mirror to look at the bite marks on his neck. Both were surrounded by nasty bruises. Daniel touched them, hissing with pain. "Louis never mentioned that the bite looks this bad." Maybe he had forgotten about it or thought it wasn't interesting enough? Daniel found it fascinating.

Stopping to stretch, he got inside the shower, "Maybe I should shave? I don't wanna spend forever with 5 o'clock shadow. I should ask Lestat when he comes to kill me." He scrubbed hard and washed his hair three times because damn the water bill, he needed to check for greys. 

 

Finally, clean and satisfied he grabbed the towel rack and stepped out of the tub. Humming through his meticulously long shave. He padded barefoot to the kitchen, grabbed a coke, rolling it over his neck and forehead before drinking it. Would this be his last meal? "A Coca-Cola totally counts as a meal." He left the kitchen, satisfied with his logic.

He turned on the living room lights with his elbow and kneeled next to the television, fishing for his headphones when Lestat’s musical voice made him jump. 

“A guest shouldn't leave without thanking their host, ma amie.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me in my newly created writing Tumblr [corpselovingcorpse](https://corpselovingcorpse.tumblr.com/)  
> you can come to say hi! I don't bite!  
> Also comment, share and subscribe so the kudos and shit give me motivation and i... write


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